


learn how to love (like you)

by of_rivers_and_moons



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Character Study, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Introspection, gals in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 10:05:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19060462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/of_rivers_and_moons/pseuds/of_rivers_and_moons
Summary: When Toko gave Komaru her heart, Komaru gave hers in return.





	learn how to love (like you)

Toko was always surprised to wake up in a warm bed. She still expected to bolt up from a black-and-white bear’s screeching announcement, or to be screamed to consciousness by her moms yelling at each other in the hall. And when she got up, she would see “Blood Bath Fever” on the television and understand why her outfit from last night was missing, or to run to the dining hall to see one less student, the rest somberly eating breakfast. So, forgive her for being a little surprised to wake up next to the soft figure of her girlfriend, even after 3 years. She gave a soft yawn, and trudged to the kitchen to eat a bowl of cereal, and maybe work on her new novel. Her bowl grew more and more empty, and she plopped on the couch with her laptop, coming up with the right phrasing for the next scene. The words flowed effortlessly as she typed away on the computer, only stopping when the scene was done. Toko made a point to never look at her reflection. Whether in a mirror, the glint of her laptop screen, or a window, she hated to look at herself. Sure, she was better now, and could handle it a bit, with the help of her girlfriend, but she still hated her appearance. 

Pig. Ugly. Fat. Loser. 

The phrases played over and over in her head whenever she saw herself, a vivid image of Togami in her mind as she lusted over him, despite his cruelty. Master, she called him, the name making her shiver as she recalled the memory. 

Oh, but he was a CUTIE! Wasn’t he Toko?

Genocider. It’s always Genocider. The one who ruined her goddamn life, but no- that was her. Toko did it herself didn’t she? She wasn’t good enough and wasn’t planned and no one liked her and- no. She’s spiraling again. Komaru likes me, she loves me, she will always love me. Even if everyone else in the world hates me, as long as she cares, that’s enough.

 

Is it?

 

Yes. Yes it is, Toko thought firmly, skimming to the page she was up to in the editing of her manuscript. She was enough, no matter what Togami or Genocider or anyone else said. Huffing contently, Toko began to jot down edits, becoming more and more absorbed in her work. 

The clocked ticked, and Toko was interrupted by a growling in her stomach. Luckily, the fridge was stocked, but they’d have to go for another grocery run soon enough. The city was mostly clear of monokumas, but you still had to be careful, so Genocider tended to run most of the trips. When Komaru didn’t at least. Toko’s girlfriend loved both of her personalities, but didn’t want Genocider to kill anyone, not anymore. She promised she wouldn’t. Genocider promised. Toko promised. And Toko keeps all of her promises, especially if they’re to her wonderful girlfriend. So, out Komaru went, hacking gun in hand, ready to brave the world, for Toko. All for Toko. 

 

To have someone who cared about her was... incredible. To love someone unconditionally and receive their unconditional love back was... splendid. Amazing. It was a warmth that spread from the top of her ahoge to the tips of her toes, a light that encase day her in its aura, a breeze that floated her through life. It wasn’t the consuming sludge that was loving Togami, or the endless itch of loving all of Genocider’s victims, or even the constant pulsing tears of caring for her father and mothers, even if none of them gave her any love back. That love was like a hose, filling them until they couldn’t contain it, and popped, blood smearing in the alleyway, bodies crucified with scissors. It was like a tantalizing cake, admiring its spun sugar decorations an elegant frosting, appearing like a beacon in the shop window, only to find it tasted of ugly words and vomit. It was like chains, binding you to the floor of your cell, keeping you trapped no matter how much you struggled. And Toko... she began to believe that this was love, that lust over appearance, or blood obligation, or bodies left in an alleyway was the best she would get. 

 

But Komaru... When Toko gave Komaru her heart, Komaru gave hers in return. Their love was a cycle, flowing, soft, giving and kind. They had what each other missed, what they needed to feel that warmth tingling through their veins. When the others took, and took, and took, and took, Komaru gave. She was so kind, even to someone as horrible, and terrible, and nasty as- no. Toko was not any of those things. 

The purple haired woman hummed as she fiddled with her pen.

Komaru was sweet, but she was no pushover. If Toko was as awful as she believed, Komaru could never love her, but she did. With every finger lacing, and soft smile, and warm embrace at night, she knew that Komaru loved her. That was proof.

 

Her belief was further confirmed when she felt a familiar weight on her shoulders. 

“Mornin’ Toko,” Komaru murmured in her ear, head resting in the crook of her girlfriend’s neck, body slumped over the back of the chair

“Good morning,” Toko said groggily, shrugging Komaru off of her back, “I gotta edit.”

 

“Always editing, thats my girl,” she yawned, stretching her arms over her head.

 

“Writers always edit.”

 

“Yeah, but your writing is perfect~” Komaru giggled, plopping down on the couch.

 

Toko’s face burned, the tips of her ears going red, as she buried her face back into the manuscript.

 

To think that she didn’t even like Komaru at first. 

She found her irritating, bothered by her gullible nature and crying when things got tough. But the author ended up with a soft spot for the girl, enamored with her devotion and lack of fear or hatred after learning about Genocider. Now, Toko loves every part of her. Even if her girlfriend has grown quite a bit, and Toko still finds her claims of being “an ordinary girl” annoying at time, they make room for their differences, shifting and learning to be able to be together. With each other, they were a puzzle, slotting together and growing bit by bit, showing more and more of their true selves over time. 

 

Toko flexed her wrist and put ink to paper once again.

 

Her story was about them. About a harsh worded girl with a tongue made of shattered glass, who learns to open up her wandering heart. About an ordinary girl with the determination of a marathon runner and skin made of comfort, who teaches another to stay. The story was a dance, shifting from a slow waltz to a graceful pirouette to the aggressive jumps of a drunk clubber. It twirled and spun as it followed the girls, growing and changing with them, and, for a brief moment, letting them become the only two people in the world. A story was a vine, branching out and blooming with the words rolling onto the page, wrapping around each sentence and chapter, curling and stretching to match the image the author needed. A story was a vine, and Toko just happened to be a good gardener.

**Author's Note:**

> happy late birthday komaru!!! i know this is mostly a character study, but the amount of time toko waxes poetic about her gf makes up for it. and yeah, the title is a steven universe reference.. -riverr


End file.
